


Stomach Ache

by DieLadi



Series: lovesick [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Love, M/M, but not within the relationship!, happy end, non-con, non-con in the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25306939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DieLadi/pseuds/DieLadi
Summary: Mycroft and Greg love each other. They live together. They stick together. Everything is wonderful. Well... ...except for one thing, they still haven't made love... (This is the sequel to "Fever" and thus the second part of the lovesick series)
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: lovesick [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786960
Comments: 55
Kudos: 54





	1. domestic

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Bauchschmerzen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14463000) by [DieLadi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DieLadi/pseuds/DieLadi). 



> This is a translation to my story "Bauchschmerzen", which you can find here on AO3. Please be aware that english is not my first language.

Gregory Lestrade tap-danced happily singing, or rather roaring, in the kitchen. The radio was playing good old rock music, while he was chopping vegetables. He was preparing dinner.  
Gregory loved to cook, and today there would be oven vegetables, steaks and sour cream. He enjoyed it, and was looking forward to sharing the meal with Mycroft when he came home from work.  
It wasn't necessarily an everyday occurrence that they had time to have dinner together. They had been living together in their house for several months now, but their services did not often make such a family idyll possible for them. All the more they both enjoyed it, if it was possible at all.

While the vegetables were baking in the oven, he set the table. Then he put the pan on the flame of their luxurious gas stove (Greg loved that stove,) hoping that nothing would interfere with Mycroft's homecoming.  
The steaks sizzled and just as he was reducing the heat he heard Mykes key in the door.  
Thank God.

Mycroft Holmes stood in the kitchen door for a moment and watched his Gregory, who had only greeted him briefly, smiling. How highly concentrated he kept an eye on the steaks so that they didn't get too well done, and with what passion he sang along to "Smoke on the Water" anyway.  
Not that that sort of music gave Mycroft anything. If he liked it now and again, it was only because Gregory liked it. And what Gregory liked, at least he made room for in his life.

Greg had turned off the flame and reached for the oven mitts.  
When he'd put them on, he came up to Mycroft and hugged him.  
Myke enjoyed the kiss he received. But then an eyebrow raised questioningly and looked at the gloves.  
"I need those," Greg said. "You're so hot I'm going to burn myself on you."  
He reaped in return a snort of amusement and a loving pat on the butt.  
"See to the food, wife," Mycroft said with a smile.  
"I'll show you wife," growled Greg, but then he had to laugh as well.  
He turned back to the stove and took the vegetables out of the oven.

Mycroft, on the other hand, went into their shared bedroom and exchanged the elegant three-piece, which during the day was something like his armour, for comfortable jeans and a still noble, but simple sweater, which caressed his skin and in which he felt comfortable.  
Jeans and sweater. He would never leave the house like that, much to Greg's regret. And the fact that he wore something like that at home only really existed since he lived with his partner.  
He looked at himself in the mirror for a moment. Well, he had to admit, the casual look suited him.  
Greg had turned some things in his life upside down and mixed up. And he was grateful for that. Now, when he thought about all those years before, when he was lonely and unaware of it...  
goose bumps ran down his spine.  
No, he enjoyed being with Gregory.  
And he enjoyed this very mundane domestic bliss.

Gregory called him, and he hurried back to the kitchen.  
The steaks were already on the plates, the vegetables Greg had prepared in a bowl.  
Greg had turned off the rock music, and Myke was grateful for that.  
They enjoyed it. It was very delicious. They enjoyed it in silence and looked at each other lovingly.  
Right at the beginning they had both decided that they could talk while eating, but not about their work.  
Today they just didn't feel like talking. It was nice just to eat the good food and be together.

Later that evening they sat arm in arm on the big, comfortable sofa and watched a movie.  
Since they both had the next day off, so they didn't have to get up early, Greg decided it was time to improve Mycroft's education in the field of cinema.  
Mycroft couldn't understand why Greg felt that a human being couldn't claim to have truly lived without having seen and judged the entire Star Wars series.  
But since movie nights in general brought along on the one hand a happy, excited Greg with sparkling eyes and on the other hand a big amount of cuddling, he had nothing against it.

Gregory also liked the cuddling.  
Mycroft had put on a few pounds over the last few months. Not much, and certainly not to the point of being a nuisance. On the contrary. Mycroft was still slim and tall, but in one place or another he was now thanks to Greg's good cooking, but mainly thanks to the fact that Greg insisted that he ate regularly, even if it wasn't much time, less bony.

At first Myke had whined about it. But Greg had lovingly explained to him how sexy he thought he was.  
He had showed hin, with his lips and his hands in crucial parts of his body, and Myke had finally understood.

So they lay arm in arm on the sofa. They were grateful to be together. They enjoyed their love for each other, which grew and grew stronger day by day.  
They rejoiced in their life in their shared house, which they filled with their warmth and their little quirks so that it had become their home.  
They had arrived happily in their relationship.  
Everything was fine.

Well...  
Yeah. Everything was fine.  
It's just...  
There was one little thing...  
that wasn't really a little thing...  
One thing neither of them knew how it could have happened...  
and certainly none of them knew how to go about it...

They had been a couple since last winter and had been living in their house for several months.  
They loved each other.  
And yet...  
they hadn't really had sex with each other until today.


	2. longing

Greg had put his arms around Mycroft and thought carefully about how this had happened. They both loved each other very much and wanted each other physically, there was no question.  
They were both adult men and had had their experiences in the past. Mycroft, he knew, had never been interested in women. What he had had in the past had generally been minor affairs, but none of them with a woman.  
He himself had been married for years. And since he was faithful, there had only been his ex-wife during that time. But before that, when he was young, he had made no difference whether he jumped into the bed with a man or a woman, and in the time after his marriage he had enjoyed himself in both directions.  
Well, that was over now, because as was said, Greg was faithful to his partner in a committed relationship. Whether that partner was a man or a woman. So he was faithful to Mycroft as well, and he simply enjoyed having someone to be faithful to again.

He found Mycroft extremely sexy.  
The slim build, the natural elegance of his movements.  
The rapt expression on his face, the quiet yet devoted moaning when Mycroft came to orgasm under his hands or lips. Oh man.  
And yet - they hadn't slept together yet, and Greg just didn't know how to get them both to that point.

They had just been together for a few weeks when they had had a free weekend where Greg was determined to seduce Mycroft with love and have sex with him.  
But then Myke had fallen ill, collapsed unconscious and was taken to hospital with a high fever.  
And somehow that messed up weekend seemed like a stumbling block, because it had never worked since.  
Because either something had come up or... if he thought about it now... there had been a tension that could be felt almost physically, so they had left it at cuddling and satisfying with their lips and mouth.

Greg didn't believe the fever had caused the weekend to go bad, though. Rather, he believed that even without Mycroft's breakdown there would not have been any real sex between them, because something seemed to be stopping him from giving himself to Greg properly and completely.

And if he was honest, that worried Greg.  
Not about the sex. Christ, he loved Mycroft for who he was. And if he was never going to have real sex with him and have to settle for blowjobs for the rest of his life, then he would just do that and enjoy it.  
What worried him was the fact that Mycroft would back out as soon as he tried to bring the subject up.  
The fact that Mycroft wouldn't open up to him. He wished that they could talk about anything and that he could stand by Mycroft in anything that moved him. And if there were things that caused him grief, Greg wanted to be there for him.

He looked at his friend whose eyes were fixed on the screen and who had put his head on Greg's shoulder.  
He smiled tenderly.  
It always seemed like a miracle to him that he was allowed to experience this Mycroft, who was so completely different from the one most other people knew. Except perhaps Sherlock.  
He had been allowed to see his honest smile. A smile that the icy cold politician who was still Mycroft in his official life never showed. The almost wolfish, cold, unfeeling smile he showed to guests of state, politicians and subordinates could not be compared to this.  
No, only he got that smile, Greg. And he loved it to death.  
It showed all the tenderness and affection Myke had for him and made his heart beat faster every time he saw it.

Greg drove a nose into Mycroft's hair.  
He liked this soft, silky hair and he liked the scent of his subtle, noble shampoo. He closed his eyes with relish.  
No one would ever get as close to Myke as he did. He knew that and it filled him with love and pride. He sensed the specialness of the moment and felt the warmth flowing through him.  
He wanted to be even closer to it.

He wanted to sleep with him.

Maybe he... well, they had time that weekend. Maybe it would work. Yes, he'd take it very slowly and seduce Mycroft with all the tenderness that he could muster.  
Slowly, lovingly, without pressure, he would make him realise how much he not only loved Mycroft as a human, but also wanted his slim, beautiful body and how much he wanted to unite with him.  
And perhaps he would succeed in taking away the insecurity (or fear?) that had previously prevented Mycroft from surrendering.

He pulled Myke a bit tighter.  
Myke turned his eyes away from the screen and looked at him questioningly. But Greg just kissed him gently on the nose and smiled at him. He felt strong, wanted to protect his darling and be there for him. He knew Myke liked that, because he had to be the strong, the man of action in everything he did every day, making decisions, directing people and deciding the fate of not only his own country. And so it was a pleasant relief for him to be surrounded by Greg's protection at home and also to let Greg make the decisions.

They were a couple at eye level, no question.  
And yet, it had become established that Greg made the decisions and Mycroft adapted.  
They both liked it that way, living a happy, loving life.

Greg gently stroked Mycroft's hair.  
Loving him more than he had ever loved before.  
And yes, they were going to make love this weekend.  
He was sure of it.


	3. thoughtful

Mycroft had felt Gregory's eyes on him.  
Glances that were loving, but also caring and questioning. And he knew what Gregory was all about.  
He snuggled up to his boyfriend and enjoyed his warmth and closeness. It was so wonderful to just enjoy being together and not have to worry about anything. Not having to make decisions, not being responsible for anything.  
Greg gave him more, so much more than he probably realized.

And yet there was this one crucial thing that he, Mycroft, could not give Greg.  
They hadn't slept together yet.  
He knew that Gregory longed for that. Not because what they shared, even sexually, wouldn't satisfy him. But because Greg longed to be with him body and soul, to be as close to him as possible.

Greg would never push him to do anything he wasn't ready to do. He knew that.  
The question was, was he ready?  
He had buried the reasons why he hadn't been able to give himself to Gregory yet, deep inside himself, and he just didn't want to think about them now.

But he trusted Gregory. ...more than he had ever trusted anyone in his life.  
And that's why he was sure he wanted to.  
He was ready and he wanted to sleep with Gregory.  
Well, the whole weekend lay ahead of them, and they had time. They could enjoy some quiet, lovely hours, and yes, he would. He would seduce Gregory.  
It wouldn't take much, he was sure of that, because he felt how much Gregory wanted him. So he would give himself to him.  
He would be able to.  
He would.

He could feel Greg gently sniffing his hair and smiling.  
That's what Greg had liked to do from the beginning. Gregory liked how soft his hair was compared to his own unruly, wiry tousles. He, Mycroft, on the other hand, liked his friend's silver-grey hair, which was sometimes difficult to tame.  
He closed his eyes and enjoyed the way Gregory wrapped his face in his hair. This tenderness between the two of them always made him hold his breath and marvel. Before he had Greg, he could never have imagined how beautiful it was. Those caresses were not just physical, they were emotional, they went so deep because he and Greg were so close. It was sometimes downright hard for him to believe that something so wonderful happened to him, Mycroft who was so cold on the outside.  
Sometimes he felt he didn't deserve any of it. But when such doubts gripped him, all he needed to do was look into Greg's eyes and see the light there.

Those eyes, those beautiful coffee brown eyes.  
Mycroft sighed and smiled at himself.  
He realised that his thoughts were just what a teenager in love should sound like. But whatever, why not? After all, he was head over heels in love and why should he hide that just because he was over forty?  
Well, nobody would experience him like that outside his own four walls, that was clear. But there was nothing he had to hide or wanted to hide from Greg. He loved Greg from the bottom of his heart, everything in him, and he wanted to show him that clearly.

And that's why this weekend was going to be the weekend.  
Yeah.  
He wouldn't let his past interfere with his relationship with Greg. He felt what they had now was too valuable.

He had to smile again.  
Who would have thought that this would come from when, about a year ago, Sherlock barged into his office and, after exchanging some petty stuff that was just an excuse, nudged him that Gregory Lestrade liked him as much as he liked Greg?  
He must be really grateful to his brother, because he had finally gotten it going that he and Greg were now cuddling here on the sofa, their shared house and with firm plans to spend the rest of their lives as a couple. Maybe even sooner or later as a married couple?  
They had already talked about that. But he wanted to leave that step to Greg, who had asked him to.

Mycroft would have said yes, any time.  
But then again, he didn't think it would be right if things weren't right between them.  
Well, they were. It's just... ...they hadn't slept together just now.  
And that was finally going to happen this weekend, and then, yeah, who knows, maybe Greg would propose.

He knew Greg wasn't gonna make it dependent on that. Greg needed to find the right time to propose, and he would.  
But he, Mycroft, somehow, made it conditional on that. He'd want to say yes, but he couldn't, couldn't manage it with that last thing standing between them.

And that's why he thought, close eyes and go through it.  
And he didn't realize how wrong it sounded, "close eyes and go through it", for the most beautiful thing in the world, which one should actually enjoy joyfully...

No, he wanted it.  
Yes.  
He was sure.  
Yes, he was!  
(And he had stomach ache at the thought of the whole thing, but that was something he didn't really want to admit to himself.)


	4. peaceful

Peaceful domestic bliss.  
That's what Mycroft felt the next morning, sitting at the breakfast table with Gregory. They had scrambled eggs and bacon on their plates, which Mycroft acknowledged with a sigh:  
A sigh of sorrow when he thought of the calories, and yet a sigh of pleasure. Bacon and scrambled eggs were delicious, especially when prepared by Gregory.  
Gregory was the undisputed master in their kitchen. Mycroft was always happy to help and assist him. But the fact that he tried his hand in the kitchen himself, had led to a few situations that in later years would turn into the "remember when you nearly burned down the kitchen?" -stories at family gatherings after a few glasses of alcohol. So this topic was put aside by mutual agreement and if Mycroft ever wanted to spoil Gregory with good food, he had it delivered by an exquisite restaurant.

In general, however, he enjoyed it much more when Gregory cooked, and Gregory was happy to do so, so the kitchen, which had been luxuriously furnished at Mycroft's instigation, was left entirely to him.  
After breakfast, Gregory asked to join Mycroft for a stroll around the nearby market, which he loved, and Mycroft was ready to do so.   
"What shall I cook for us today?" Greg asked, "Anything you fancy?"  
Mycroft blushed a little - that was something only Gregory could do for him - and said:  
"That pasta dish you cooked for us on our first date."  
"You mean, Spaghetti alla Puttanesca?"  
"Yes, that's right."  
Greg smiled. Yeah, that was a good idea. Not only was the dish delicious, but it was full of happy memories for both of them. So it was the perfect way to start a lovely evening...  
Now he blushed a little himself.

So they sauntered off after Mycroft tidied up the kitchen. That was his job. He insisted, as Gregory did the cooking, that he did the washing up and after meals, kept things tidy. This once used to be all done by his staff, but since he lived with Gregory in their house, they no longer existed. Greg had simply refused to have people in the house "sniffing after my every move," as he put it.  
Well, surprisingly, Mycroft had found that he was prepared to make a lot of compromises for Gregory and that he did not lack for it. On the contrary, he enjoyed this undisturbed togetherness more than he had ever thought possible.

The weekly market was the same one that Gregory had visited when he still lived alone in his apartment.  
Mycroft remembered the day Greg took him there for the first time.  
Greg was known and loved at the market; he would chat here and there; he had his favourite stalls and was friendly with the owners.  
His face had shone like the morning sun that day and he seemed to burst with pride when he lovingly introduced him, Mycroft, as his partner everywhere. Mycroft had also been taken to hearts because he was Greg's partner and it was generally believed that the friend of a kind, helpful man like Greg must have a good heart.

As they were leaving the house to go to the market, Greg raised his eyebrows.  
"What is it?" asked Mycroft.  
"Well... ..I think, perhaps... ...maybe this time you could try a bit more relaxed with me?"  
Mycroft had no idea what his friend meant.  
"The suit,“ Gregory said. "I'd think it's a good idea if you took last night's jeans and pullover and...“  
"No, Gregory,“ Mycroft shook his head. "That's absolutely out of the question!“  
Gregory sighed. He put on the highly effective puppy-dog look that Mycroft normally couldn't resist.  
"But, Gregory, this is home wear, I can't go out in the street like this!"  
"Oh, come on! It's the weekend, we've got time off. Not a political conference or anything, just going for a stroll with your partner. Please, Myke!"  
Gregory put a little more "Please, please!" in the look out of his coffee-brown eyes.  
Mycroft sighed.  
"Oh Greg, what are you doing to me."  
And then, after some hesitation:  
"All right, but then my partner will have to wait a moment longer before I've changed."  
Gregory beamed. He gave him a quick little kiss and whispered in one ear:  
"I imagine your very happy partner will reward you for this later, and I'm sure he won't think of cotton candy..."

Mycroft snorted in amusement, and then he made his way back to the dressing room.

A little while later, they strolled hand in hand past the market stalls.  
Greg checked the merchandise carefully before making his decisions. He was in favour of buying less, but of first-class quality. Especially when it came to fresh vegetables, it was very important to him. So together they got everything they needed for today's pasta dish and for a spicy curry for tomorrow. Greg paid for everything from their shared household wallet. This was another thing that Greg insisted on. Of course, Mycroft's income was many times higher than his, and he would have been happy to cover all the costs of their life together. But Greg had never let that happen in the first place. He didn't earn badly himself, and it was important to him to maintain his independence. He wanted it to be clear to everyone at all times that the only reason he was with Mycroft was because he loved him. Not because he benefited from him. He had his self-respect and he cared about that. And Mycroft respected that.

They'd have an espresso while they watched other people shop.  
"Thanks," Greg said.  
"Thank you? For what?"  
"For doing all this... „ And Greg made his hand make a sweeping gesture... „...to join me.“  
"Gregory... you don't have to thank me. I want to thank you for showing me all these things. All the things that make a relationship work. All these ordinary things that are special to me because I've never done them before and because I'm doing them with you. And everything I do with you is special.“  
Gregory beamed again and leaned over to kiss Mycroft.  
They sank into a long, tender kiss that tasted of sweet espresso, autumn air and love. It was beautiful.  
It was the perfect end to a wonderful morning.


	5. passionate

Again Gregory had cooked for them. This spaghetti dish had been great. It was delicious and Mycroft had enjoyed every bite.  
Now he was in the kitchen, putting the dishes in the dishwasher.  
To have such a free weekend, to have time together with Greg, that was a gift. He sighed with satisfaction. Yes, he enjoyed every moment.  
And he felt relaxed and at ease. And today... yes, today he would. For Greg.

He had felt all day long that Greg wanted him to. That Greg longed for him.  
The body language, the looks, the gestures, it was all so obvious and it was a wonderful feeling for Mycroft to be so wanted.  
And he was perfectly fine with it. Gregory could do amazing things to him with his mouth and warm, gentle hands.  
He sighed longingly.  
But then the stomach ache came back, when he realized that it would not stop there. Greg wanted to sleep with him, and that was only natural. Greg would never make him do it, but he wanted to. It was obvious.  
And so did he, Mycroft. Close your eyes and...  
He swallowed.  
He swallowed. Breathed.  
...smiling.  
The smile was a bit forced. But when he entered the living room and saw Greg lying there on the sofa, freshly showered and wearing one of those tight-fitting black pants he liked so much, it turned into a real warm smile. He too desired this man, desired what they already shared with each other. That was beautiful. It's just that...

Mycroft walked up to him, and bent down to kiss him.  
"I'm just going to have a shower, you beautiful man, and then I'll meet you in the bedroom, okay?“  
Gregory beamed and nodded.

When Mycroft came into the bedroom, freshly showered and wrapped in his soft bathrobe, Greg lounched stark naked on the bed and smiled seductively at him.  
He made a luring gesture with his finger and said:  
"Well Mr. Holmes, I believe you have an appointment with me!"  
"I think you're right, Detective Inspector Lestrade!"  
"Well then, let's get down to business," Greg said and squealed as Mycroft literally threw himself on him. He swung astride Gregory and began kissing him, gently at first, then violently.

Greg's hands slipped across Mycroft's sides, his hips and finally clawed into his bottom. Stroking and caressing his cheeks, and yes, heavens, he liked it. The sounds he made had nothing whatsoever to do with Mycroft's Ice-coldness for which he was known ... because here he was someone else. Here he was with Gregory, here he was himself.

Gregory, for his part, loved his lover's soft, pale skin. He loved the way Mycroft would come out of him when he caressed him, touched him...  
And yet... As his hands, which had gently kneaded his butt, slid more and more between Mykes cheeks and the first of Greg's fingers pressed gently but firmly against Mykes' entrance, Greg felt his friend tense.  
Still. Something was still there that was preventing Myke from surrendering to him and he just didn't know what. He wished Mycroft would talk to him about it. He wanted it so much, but God, he only wanted it if Mycroft wanted it too.  
But... But he wanted Mycroft to trust him and talk to him about it.  
He sighed, because the excitement hadn't let him go. Now was not the time for conversation.  
He gently pushed Mycroft aside. Then he turned until he was on his hands and knees on the bed.  
"Please Mycroft," he said in a voice so dark with pleasure, "Please, love me... ...take me..."

Mycroft sucked the breath away.  
He'd always assumed that Greg would...  
The fact that Greg behaved more dominantly in their relationship than he did, even if only a little bit, which, by the way, he appreciated very much, had led him to believe that ...  
But now so - yes, that would work.  
They would sleep together.  
He would sleep with Greg.  
He sighed in relief and began gently massaging Greg's entrance.  
Greg moaned with relish. Mycroft took the tube of lubricant and spread a little on his fingers. And then...  
...well...  
...he could let himself go. Greg had a sense of what was right. Mycroft had given himself to the moment, had sunk deep into Greg, had felt him as close as never before, had pushed them both over the cliff of lust.

A short time later, they lay on the bed, sweaty and exhausted. Greg had his arms around him and Mycroft had laid his head on Greg's shoulder.  
Once again he was infinitely grateful that this wonderful, beautiful, tender, understanding man loved him of all people.  
Again he could hardly believe it was so; again the thought of it amazed him immensely.  
He snuggled even closer to him and felt Greg's hand gently crawling up his flank.  
"Mycroft?" Greg said. "I love you."  
"I love you too,“ he replied softly.  
Yes, he did. More than anything else in the world.  
He'd do anything for Greg.

He'd give Greg anything he wanted, needed, desired.  
He would... right after he'd rested a little, he'd try again...  
He would...  
For Greg...

And while he thought so, he did not notice how he slipped into a restful sleep, protected by the arms of his beloved.


	6. suddenly

When Greg awoke the next morning, Mycroft was still snuggling up close to him. He was still asleep, breathing calmly and looking so infinitely peaceful.  
Greg smiled. He knew that Mycroft's job was quite demanding and exhausting, well, his own was no mean feat, and he indulged him that rest. Softly he kissed him on the forehead.  
Mycroft's nose wrinkled, causing Greg to smile again. But his boyfriend slept on and never woke from the kiss.  
So Greg, too, dozed off once more.

When he awoke again, he looked straight into Mycroft's waterblue eyes.  
"Good morning," Myke said in a rough, tired voice.  
"Good morning," Greg replied. "Did you sleep well?"  
"Yes", said Mycroft. "How could I not, I had sex with a beautiful man just before I went to sleep!"  
Greg smiled. "What a coincidence, so did I!“  
He giggled and Mycroft laughed out loud.

Mycroft stretched.  
He tried to sit up, but Greg's arms held him down.  
"Where are you going?“  
"I want to make breakfast," he said, "your stomach's growling already. You're hungry, aren't you?"  
Greg licked his lips.  
"Yes," he said. "I am hungry, but not for tea and toast, but for you!"  
And he kissed Mykes' neck and nibbled his shoulder blade softly.  
Mycroft moaned softly.  
"You are insatiable, Detective Inspector!"  
"You are a tasty morsel, Mr Holmes.“

Greg now knelt beside him, kissing softly on his collarbone.  
"Greg", yapped Mycroft, "I want you!"  
"I want you too," Greg said, breathing heavily.  
"No, I mean I want you... ...love me, please. I mean, take me!"  
Greg broke away from him for a moment.  
"I, uh... Are you sure?“  
"Yes,“ Mycroft moaned.  
And yes, he was sure he wanted to. He was sure, wasn't he?

"Mmmmmmmmmmm...“  
Greg made a sound that sounded like a purr.  
"Well, in that case," he said, "I'm going to eat you alive, you delicious breakfast!"

Greg was tender. He took his time.  
Mycroft felt it was important for his friend that he enjoyed it as well.  
Greg kissed all over his body, until he was writhing with delight. Caressing him everywhere he could think of.  
He moved his hands over Mycroft's buttocks and lightly kneaded them.  
Mycroft enjoyed... Until then it was beautiful, and Greg was the most tender and careful lover one could imagine.  
Time and time again, he made sure Mycroft was doing well.  
Finally, his fingers gently brushed across Mycroft's entry.  
He took his time here as well. Circling his thumb over this highly sensitive area, applying very gentle pressure, again and again.

Mycroft tried to remain relaxed.  
It was... ...strange, but it was nice. To feel Greg like that, his Gregory slowly and lovingly touching him.  
Finally Greg penetrated him very carefully with a finger.  
Mycroft's breaths quickened, he struggled to breathe calmly and not tense up... ..but succeeded only partially.  
Greg looked at him questioningly, caringly.  
"I want you," Mycroft whispered. And yes, he wanted it. He wanted it, didn't he?

Gregory, worked his way slowly.  
When a second, a third finger had been sunk into Mycroft's entrance, an infinite amount of time seemed to have passed.  
"Are you ready?" Greg asked quietly, with a slight doubt in his voice.  
"Yes!' said Mycroft, „I am ready!“  
He was ready. He was ready, wasn't he?

He felt Greg's penis press gently between his buttocks, felt Greg's skin so close to him, felt his warm breath.  
Saw Greg's lovely face as he layed Mycroft's left leg over his shoulder and gently, very gently, began to penetrate him.

Mycroft wanted that.  
He wanted to give Greg everything.  
He wanted Greg to experience everything.  
He wanted to share everything with Greg.  
Including this.

But he couldn't.

With a groan that sounded almost like a scream, he pushed Greg away. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.  
Greg withdrew immediately when he realized that the moment was anything but okay.  
"Mycroft, what..." he tried to say, but Mycroft had already jumped up and stormed out of the room. He'd run into the bathroom.  
Greg followed him, but he discovered that his friend had locked the bathroom door from the inside.  
"Honey?" he shouted and knocked softly. "Honey, what's wrong? Let me help you!"  
All he heard was a sob.  
"Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry! Mycroft..."  
Greg let himself sink to the floor.  
This isn't how he wanted it to happen.  
Yes, he'd like to sleep with Mycroft, but not like this. Not unless Mycroft was one hundred per cent okay with it. God, it wasn't that important, he'd have been happy to give it up instead of hurting Mycroft!

He decided to wait. Eventually, his friend would calm down and come out of the bath.  
And then they would talk.  
And everything would be fine.


	7. helpless

Mycroft was still standing trembling and confused in the bathroom. He held on to the sink and stared at himself in the mirror. How long had he been standing there now? He didn't know.  
The situation was strange; absurd; it could not go on like this. But how could it go on? He did not know.  
Sure, they would have to talk. The problem was, he didn't know what to say. Gregory must have been very disappointed in him... Greg was tender and understanding, but... ...but what could he do with a partner who couldn't confide in him? To open up and give himself to him?  
Gregory deserved someone better.  
He sighed.

A few more times his friend had knocked on the door, called out for him quietly and tried to get him to open the door.  
He could not.  
He just stood there, staring and trying to bring order to his thoughts.  
At some point it had become quiet.  
He pulled himself together, turned to the door and opened it quietly.

To his amazement, but also somehow to his relief, he noticed that Gregory was squatting next to the door and had apparently fallen asleep. No wonder, they had come late to sleep, woke up early again and the worry for him, Mycroft, must have exhausted Gregory.  
He pushed the door open very quietly and slipped through.  
What was he to do now?  
He was going to... ...he would...

Without really thinking about what he was doing, he put on a pair of socks and some underpants, a shirt, sweater and jeans.  
And before he knew it, he was standing out on the street, still confused and all messed up.

He reached out and stopped the next best cab.  
The car stopped and the driver opened the door for him. Mycroft's natural dignity and authority did not seem to have been lost on him now, at least he was treated with respect by the Cabbie.  
"Where can I take you, sir?

Well, where to?  
Well, he could always go to any hotel available. Get the best rooms.  
He could go to his rooms at the Diogenes Club, which were still available to him there, though he'd hardly used them since he'd been with Gregory. Indeed, even his office, where he exercised his "subordinate governmental function", and which was in fact the centre of the British Empire, had a relaxation room with a comfortable sleeping couch and everything one needed for a stay of several days.  
But...  
He did not want to be alone.  
Not now.

He had obviously changed during the time with Gregory. Gregory had changed him.  
He wasn't the Iceman anymore.  
Well, on the outside, he still was.  
But on the inside, he had changed. He used to be okay with not letting anyone in. Being an island in the middle of an ocean of people and human relationships.  
He had encouraged it where he could, had discouraged all attempts to like him.  
But now...  
it was different.  
At that moment, when he felt bad and had to admit that he was confused and didn't know what to do, he longed for family.  
And so he said, "221 B Baker Street."

"Okay, sir. 221 B Baker Street," said the driver and started the car.  
Seriously? He was going to his brother?  
Yeah, actually, he wanted to talk, he needed help and the first people he thought of were Sherlock and John.  
Then he realised that Sherlock wasn't in London at all. He was somewhere in the country, working on a case.  
Well, maybe that wasn't so bad. Because John Watson, his brother's little doctor and fiancé, had become family to him. He was astonished to find that out for himself, but, yes, John was part of it.

In fact, John would be a better partner to talk to than Sherlock, who would know everything at once with just one look. John on the other hand was the one who was much more experienced with all the pitfalls of human interaction. He would listen to him, and he would certainly know what to do. Well, at least he wouldn't taunt him like Sherlock would. John was clearly the better choice at the moment.

He'd lean back in the cushions of the car and let houses, cars, people slide by.  
He wondered if Gregory was still asleep. Or had he woken up by now?  
He would certainly be looking for him and surely one of the first things he would do would be to call Sherlock and John. But that was Okay, because he, Mycroft, wasn't really trying to hide from Greg. He just wanted to...  
Well, what did he want?

He didn't really know himself, he just knew that he was in an unusual situation that he couldn't handle on his own, despite all his diplomatic skills and intelligence.  
He sighed.

And he was glad when the car finally stopped at Baker Street in front of Mrs. Hudson's house.


	8. brotherly

When Gregory woke up, he was freezing and his neck was completely stiff. He tried to stretch, but his back protested. Sleeping sitting leaning against the wall had probably not been a good idea.  
For a moment it was not clear to him why he was in this position. Then everything came back to him and he jumped up on his legs in shock.  
He turned around to knock on the bathroom door again, but then he noticed that it stood up.  
Damn it! Mycroft was not in the bathroom. Nor was he anywhere else in the house, as Greg discovered after searching every room for him. Even in the utility room and cellar, including Mycroft's temperature controlled wine cellar, which Greg never went into.

He was worried. Something was wrong, Mycroft seemed to be having a bad time and he had no idea why. And while his friend in the next room seemed to be in agony, he'd simply fallen asleep. What a miserable partner he was.  
And now Mycroft was gone. Well, it was no wonder, the way he, Greg, had let him down.  
He sighed.  
Mycroft clearly deserved someone better than him.

Whatever was going on, they had to sort it out. They need to talk.  
But first, he'd have to find out where Mycroft was in the first place.  
He ran back into the bedroom to put some clothes on and, slipping into his jeans, he was wondering where he could be.  
Sure, he remembered. Sherlock.  
Sure, Mycroft and Sherlock insulted each other whenever they could. Sherlock taunted his big brother, while the younger brother was the object of Mycrofts patented and uncopyable arrogance. But when it came down to it, the two were there for each other.

This had been proved when Sherlock had made sure that Greg and Mycroft had got together at all.  
This had been proved again when Mycroft had become so ill and Sherlock had stood by them both; and he had not done so, or shall we say not only because he knew that John would reward him for it with kisses and other caresses.

And so it was likely for Greg that even now, when Mycroft apparently had worries which for some reason he could not or would not share with his partner, he would turn to his brother and the little doctor.

So Greg grabbed his phone and dialled Sherlock's number.  
It took the man a while to answer it.  
"Sherlock? It's Greg. Is Mycroft with you?"  
"Mycroft? Here in Scotland? What was he doing here with me? Is he messing with me again?"  
Sherlock wasn't in London, for God's sake.  
"No, sorry....I didn't think you'd be out. Right, well... Have a nice day.“  
He tried to hang up, but Sherlock snapped at him:  
"Wait for me."  
Instinctively, Greg just sort of paused.  
"Graham, why don't you know where Mycroft is? Have you two had a fight?"  
Greg rolled his eyes, wondering if the name had been misspelled deliberately. Then he answered:  
"No, we weren't arguing, but... but it's complicated. I'll explain it to you when I figure it out myself, okay?"  
"Okay," Sherlock said, "but, Grand, listen... I can't stand my annoying brother, but he's still my brother. And if you hurt him, you'd better get out of the country before I get my hands on you, understand?"  
Despite everything, Greg had to grin.  
"Sure, Sherlock. But don't worry, I don't want to hurt him."  
He sighed.  
"It's all right, Greg. Keep me posted," growled the consulting detective, before he hung up.  
Greg called John next.  
"Hi John, this is Greg... is Myke with you?"  
He heard a momentary hesitation, then the doctor answered:  
"Yeah, he's right here."  
Greg was a load off his mind.  
"Can I talk to him?"  
"Not right now. He was pretty tired. I took him to my old room and put him in bed. He's asleep."

John cleared his throat.  
"Listen, Greg. I don't know exactly what's going on. Mycroft actually needed someone to talk to, but when the time came, he couldn't get it done. I think the person he really wants to talk to, and desperately needs to talk to, is you. So get your ol' copper's arse over here, because I think it'll be good to have you there when he wakes up."  
Despite the harsh words, Greg felt that John also meant well and cared.  
"Yeah," he said, "I'm on my way!"

And so he set out on his journey.  
A taxi was quickly found, but the journey to Baker Street seemed to take him forever.  
When he finally arrived, and was let in by Mrs Hudson, he rushed up the stairs.  
John met him at the front door.  
"Hi, Greg. Come in. Mrs Hudson was kind enough to bring me some biscuits and I made some tea."  
He hung up Greg's coat, bowed him over to the sofa and poured him a cup of the hot beverage.  
Greg took a sip.  
John looked at him questioningly and expectantly.  
Greg avoided the gaze. What could he do? He would have liked to tell John what was going on.  
But, damn it, he didn't know for sure himself!


	9. emphatically

Mycroft was on the bed in John's old room, not asleep. He was exhausted, yes, but he wouldn't get hist eyes shut now. Not now that he didn't know what to do next. What would Gregory make of all this? Just running away in the middle of sex; then not even telling him what was going on, leaving him behind and just standing there. Leave him in the dark, just like that. No wonder Gregory would never talk to him again.

He listened when he heard the door go downstairs. John's voice. And another one... Gregory! Gregory was here! Oh my god.  
Now what?  
He took a breath and sat up. Then he pricked up his ears. The two of them down there were talking, he could hear cups clinking. He tried hard to understand what John and Greg were talking about, until he realised what silly kindergarten behaviour he was displaying here.  
So he got up, tensed himself up, opened the door and walked down the stairs with his head held high.

All his grandeur just collapsed when Gregory, as soon as he looked at him, jumped up, stormed towards him and just grabbed him. Pulling him into a tight hug and pressing him tightly against himself.  
"Mycroft," Greg said, and one could hear that he had difficulty speaking. "You can't just disappear like that! I'm worried about you."  
He wanted to answer, but he couldn't. He swallowed and felt that his eyes were burning.

They stood like this for a while until John cleared his throat and said:  
"I don't want to interrupt your alone time, but... ...but would you like to sit down?"  
Embarrassed, they separated and sat down with John at the small tea table.  
John then poured Mycroft a cup of Earl Grey and said:  
"So you two... Whatever it is, I think you should talk about it. I have some experience in this. After all, I have a lovable, but completely mad detective on my back, and believe me, if there is one thing I have learnt in the time I have spent with him, it is that you can get things done if you are honest and open your mouth. Even Sherlock understands that now. It's not always easy, I know that. "elieve me, more blood, sweat and tears have been shed in these rooms than you can imagine."

"To be honest, I don't really want to imagine that either," growled Greg.  
John laughed.  
"Anyway, talk. And if afterwards you want to scratch your eyes out or think of each other as the biggest idiots under God's heaven, then at least you know why. You can work with that."  
He looked from one to the other.  
"Do you want me with you or shall I go and see Mrs Hudson?"

Greg cleared his throat.  
"I don't know... it's about ... ...sort of... ...sex."  
John blushed suddenly.  
John was not a child of sadness. He'd had a number of women in his life who'd shared his sheets with him and in his time in the army even a few men. He had lived with Sherlock for several years, and it was clear to everyone that the two now engaged were not only holding hands like the priest's daughters at Sunday church.  
For one thing, to John's displeasure, Sherlock was in no way shy about it. And for another, because it is the most natural thing in the world for a couple in love to have sex.  
Yet John was immediately a bundle of embarrassment when someone was about to talk about such things.  
He loved sex, but he didn't like talking about it. Well, except with Sherlock, but that was different.  
Anyway, he stood up with bright red ears and he said:  
"I think Mrs Hudson would like a little chat."  
And before he closed the stairs behind him, he said:  
"Help yourself to tea and biscuits, won't you?"  
And off he went.

Greg looked at Mycroft a little shyly. They didn't say a word for a while. Finally, Greg took Mycroft's hand in his and began to stroke it gently with his thumb.  
Mycroft relaxed. This small, so tender gesture made him aware that Greg was there for him and wanted to be with him.  
"I...“ Greg started, but he got stuck in that sentence.  
He cleared his throat and started again.  
"I'm sorry, Myke, I was too insensitive and I didn't realize you were unwell."  
"No, Gregory, I'm sorry I couldn't give myself away."  
Again they were silent.

Finally, Greg said:  
"For God's sake. We're just idiots, both of us. You couldn't give yourself to me, for whatever reason, in this moment. I didn't feel in time that it was just not the right moment. We both did it wrong. But that's not bad, because we learn from each other, right?"  
Mycroft nodded.  
"And we'll do better next time, yeah?"  
He nodded again.  
"And now, sweetheart, you tell me what really happened, okay?"

Mycroft was silent. It wasn't that simple.  
Greg rolled his eyes.  
"Mycroft, don't get me wrong. I love you. And if sex doesn't work that way, that's okay. I don't love you one iota less for that. But..."  
He looked Mycroft directly in the eye.  
"I feel there's something bothering you. And I want to stand by your side. I'm your partner in life and if there are things that are bothering you I want to know them so that I can help you. Especially when they affect both of us."

Mycroft sighed.  
Greg was right.  
So he took a breath and began to speak haltingly.


	10. unhappy

"As you may know," he said, "I haven't had a relationship in a long time. I've had some, well, let's call it short-term engagements, because I'm a man with needs..."  
Greg nodded understandingly.  
"But a real relationship wasn't there. I didn't want to let anyone in. Sherlock is not wrong with his claims: love is not much more than a chemical defect and people you like can be vulnerabilities you are vulnerable to. A person of power and influence, like me..."

Greg looked at him all shocked and hurt.  
...so Mycroft hurried to continue:  
"But then, I learned from you that all the difficulties of a committed love relationship are nothing compared to what it can give you. Through you I felt for the first time in many, many years what security and warmth means. And if all this is a defect, then it is one that I like to have. And the risks it brings with it, I'm happy to accept."  
He gently stroked Gregory's cheek with his hand.

"But, Gregory, you are not the first man to win my heart. You are the last, because I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But... ...when I was young, there was someone I loved once before. And he made me..."  
Mycroft swallowed.  
"Myke," Greg said softly, "If it's too hard for you, then you don't have to..."  
"Yes, Greg. I want to talk about it. I feel I want to get it out. I want to get it off my chest. And for once I've found the courage to do that. So let me do it, okay?"  
Greg nodded.  
"Okay. I'm listening to you. I'm here for you."

"So his name was Maurice, and he was a few years older than me. I was 20 years old and at the beginning of my career. I loved him. But he... well, today I think it was more like he decorated himself with me. After all, I came from a rich family and was well on the way to starting a brilliant career in diplomacy ... so I was a boyfriend in his eyes to brag about.“  
Mycroft swallowed.  
"He claimed to love me, but... but I know from hindsight that wasn't true. He showed me no respect. He taunted me for my looks..."  
"What?" Gregory didn't understand. He'd seen pictures of Mycroft at a younger age, who was already slim and elegant then.

"Well," said Mycroft, blushing. "My red hair... My freckles. My funny nose."  
"Rubbish," grumbled Greg. "The guy must have been blind."  
Myke shrugged.  
"He, on the other hand, just looked great. He was, well, manly handsome. That's it."  
Greg bent over and kissed Mycroft on the forehead. "You are beautiful," he said, "and anyone who says otherwise will have to deal with me."  
A pleasant shiver ran down Mycroft's spine.

"Well," said Mycroft, and Gregory felt a slight shiver. "One day, I came home a bit earlier than usual and found him in bed with a mutual 'friend'. I was shaken and my world seemed to come crashing down."  
Greg nodded. Jesus, he understood only too well. More than once he had met his wife in a similar situation. In her own marital bed. He detested such betrayal. His face darkened when he remembered that Mycroft had obviously gone through something similar.

"I confronted him,' said Mycroft, 'but he just taunted me. He asked me if I wanted to watch. So that I would finally learn how to do it. Because we had..." He swallowed. "...Not at this stage... with each other..."

For a few moments, Mycroft remained silent.  
Then he went on.  
"I was horrified and angry and unhappy. And yet, I was ashamed that he had to go elsewhere to satisfy his needs, because I was unable to..."  
He whispered now.  
"I just wasn't ready, you know?"  
Greg shivered. He'd better not let that Maurice get to his fingers.  
"So I finally agreed, the very night he urged me. Actually, I wanted to wait. I've just been shy about these things, you know I still am - the Mycroft everyone knows is a different man from the Mycroft I am at home with you. In private. And that was true even then."  
A deep breath.

"I agreed to it - but when it came down to it, I couldn't do it. I didn't want to. I wanted to wait. And then ...“  
Mycroft shook again. Greg put his arms around him and held him tight.  
"He pushed me and when I tried to stop it, he pushed me again..."

.  
.  
.

"He forced me, Gregory. He was stronger than me, and he managed to intimidate me. And so I had no defense against him. He made me do it, and it was..."  
"Ssscchhh, it's okay. I understand..."  
Greg held him.  
Just held him.  
Mycroft was grateful that Greg was just there, and didn't interrogate him, but let him tell it the way he did.  
And for holding him.

He was a bit worried, silly as it was, that Greg would shy away from him.  
But Greg just held him.  
And slowly, very slowly, Mycroft relaxed a bit.


	11. confident

Greg understood.  
He understood why Mycroft, the great, strong, supreme politician who decided the fate of whole countries with an icy smile, was so insecure in this very private area.  
Oh God...  
And he was fuming inside.  
If this Maurice guy ever crossed his path... ...he, Greg, would be on the other side of the law in no time and Anderson would probably have the dubious pleasure of arresting him for murder.

Right now, he was just holding Mycroft, he was there for him.  
He felt that his friend needed him and it felt good to be able to give him security and protection.  
"Mycroft,' he said softly, 'I love you. And no matter what that bastard said to you. I like every tiny detail about you. I love you and you are beautiful to me. And, uh..."  
He swallowed. It was a little hard for him to talk about,  
"...you know I would never push you to do anything you weren't ready to do.“

"But I don't understand myself,“ Mycroft said, and there was a note of desperation in his voice.  
"After it happened, I've slept with several men, or rather they slept with me, although it never meant anything to me. But it always worked then. Then why do I have such difficulties getting into this now, with you of all people? I love you so much!"

"Maybe that's the point," said Gregory. "You love me and you want to make everything right. You want me to be well and you put yourself under pressure. Even though you don't have to. Or maybe it's because everything between us reminds you too much of the past, because after all, that... Maurice... you loved this man."  
Gregory had spat out the name like a disgusting insect.  
Mycroft was hanging his head.  
"Oh, Gregory... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. You're having a really hard time with me."  
Gregory kissed him gently.  
"Nonsense," he said. "Well, you don't make it easy for me sometimes, it's true. But right now, right now, you're making it hard on yourself. I love you as you are and I'm grateful for all you give me, do you hear?"  
He was still holding Mycroft.

For a while there, they were silent. Then Gregory cleared his throat.  
"I think... ...I think we should go back home. I'm exhausted and I want to snuggle down with you on our sofa at home. What do you think about that?"  
Mycroft was silent.  
"What is it?" Gregory asked, alarmed. "We... ...don't need to cuddle, if this is too much for you. We can just talk, or keep quiet, whatever you want, but please come home with me, okay?"  
Myke looked at him with big eyes.  
"So You... really... still want to be with me?"  
"Of course! What were you thinking?"  
Greg shook his head.  
"Mycroft Haggerty Holmes, you can be a bit of a fool sometimes."  
He smiled.  
"But you are my fool, and that's a good thing. Now let's get going. I'll just go and tell John. You can hail a cab if you like. This ability to get one up and running at once, you Holmes boys both have, and it never ceases to amaze me."  
Mycroft smiled sheepishly.  
He kissed Gregory and left with him.

John was quite relieved that they seemed to have sorted out whatever was brewing. As much as he enjoyed helping them, Sherlock would be returning home tomorrow and he was reluctant to have visitors ... he blushed at the very thought of their reunion.

An hour later Greg and Mycroft were at home, had a fresh shower and actually retired to the sofa.  
Mycroft had promised Greg to open his mouth and talk whenever something was bothering him. In return Greg had promised to do the same, because in a good relationship, he thought, such things should be mutual.  
For now, however, they just enjoyed being together and cuddling. Greg had been cautious and reserved, but Mycroft had thirsted for his touch and closeness like a starving man for water. So Greg had given up his restraint and held Myke firmly in his arms as he gently stroked his cheek.

They were together. That's what counted.  
Nothing else mattered.  
And whether or not he would sleep with Myke was not important to Greg either.  
What mattered was that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him.

And he was going to prove that to Mycroft.  
...as quickly as possible.

First thing Monday at lunchtime he would go and look for a pair of rings.


	12. uneasy

A week later, Mycroft Holmes was sitting in his office in the City when there was a knock on the door, which was opened immediately afterwards. It was Anthea, Mycroft's invaluable assistant and therefore the only one who could allow herself such behaviour.  
"Mr Holmes?" she said, asking.  
"What is it, Anthea?", Mycroft was alarmed, because even if Anthea was allowed to burst in like that, it was something she rarely did and it was generally associated with rather unpleasant news.  
"Is there something wrong with Sherlock?"  
Yes, although his little brother had become very stable during his time with good John, it was still the first thought that crossed his mind when it came to expected bad news.  
He just couldn't get out of his skin as an older brother.

"No, sir. Detective Inspector Lestrade telephoned. He asks you to come home. He said it was urgent."  
As soon as she spoke, Mycroft had jumped up and grabbed his coat. If Gregory rang him at work and asked him to come home, something must've happened. Gregory had the same respect for his job as he did vice versa. Work was simply the order of the day and neither of them interfered with the other's. If he did, as he was doing now, there must have been serious reasons.  
"'Please cancel the appointments for the rest of the day,“ he shouted to Anthea as he stormed out. " I will keep you informed. Oh, and Anthea, my car...“  
"Already done. It's already waiting for you in the underground car park," said his assistant. She looked at Mycroft, who no longer looked at her. So he missed the fine smile that played around her lips.

"Home, as soon as possible," he said to his driver, leaning back into the cushions of the fund.  
He knew that now he would no longer have to push the man. His people were all highly professional, including the driver of his car, who would now be heading towards the destination at the highest possible speed, but also by driving in a sensible and therefore not health-threatening manner.  
Nevertheless, it seemed to him as if they were virtually sneaking through the afternoon traffic. He restlessly tapped his forearm with his fingertips. For God's sake, why did the others drive like snails!  
He took a deep breath and forced himself to rest.

At the same time he tried to call Gregory on his mobile. But he did not answer. That was not exactly reassuring. Sure, there were times when Greg couldn't pick up the phone when he was at work. There were always conferences, interrogations or whatever that made it impossible for him to answer the phone.  
But now that he was at home?  
Mycroft became increasingly concerned the longer this whole thing went on.

Then his phone rang. To his surprise, he recognised Sherlock's number.  
He answered it.  
"Yes?“  
"Hello, brother," he heard Sherlock's rather mocking voice.  
"I assume you're on your way home."  
Mycroft puffed.  
"How did you...?“  
"Well, your DI called me. And he told me to call you, just to calm you down a bit."  
Mycroft breathed out.  
"And then,“ Sherlock said, „to tell you this, hang on, I've got a note here... Ah, there it is. Right. First of all, don't worry, it's all fine. Secondly, tell your driver to drive properly. Third, no cigarettes in the car. And fourth, don't worry, everything is fine.“  
Sherlock chuckled. "It looks like your, er, Darling knows you pretty well, doesn't he?"  
"Just shut up," growled Mycroft, "your doctor's got you on a bit of a tight leash too."  
"Touché,“ Sherlock said, „he does indeed.“  
And there was a soft tenderness in his voice.

Mycroft couldn't help smiling.  
"Well, looks like we've both found our goldfish, eh, brother?"  
"Yes,“ replied the younger one. "Let's feed them well and take good care of them, so they won't swim away."  
Now Mycroft had to laugh, and he was really grateful to Sherlock for the call, because now he felt far less worried.  
"Now then,“ Sherlock said, „I've got work to do. Keep me posted, brother."  
And then he hung up.

Mycroft smiled.  
Yeah, he thought, it just felt good to have found some kind of brotherhood with Sherlock. Of course, they bitched and mocked each other as usual, but... but they didn't hide it so deeply that they actually liked each other.  
John and Greg certainly had their part to play in that.

Greg.  
He wondered what Gregory wanted with him.  
From the phone call to Sherlock, he'd say nothing bad had happened.  
But what was it that made his partner call him home from his office in the middle of the day?  
He didn't have a clue. It was something that only Greg could do. Anyone else, he would've seen through them enough to know what was going on.  
But Greg...

He leaned back into the back of the car again and was relieved when the car finally turned into the garage driveway of their shared house.


	13. happy

As Mycroft entered the house, he heard soft music coming from the kitchen.  
It was a wonderful violin piece.  
Interestingly, he didn't know it, but he recognised the bow stroke and with it the artistic hand behind the sounds that apparently came from the tape.  
Sherlock.  
And from the sound of it, it was a piece composed by his little brother himself.

Mycroft hung his coat on the hook and forced himself to rest.  
Whatever was going on, there was nothing bad going on, so the best thing he could do was to try to let things come as smoothly as possible.  
He walked to the kitchen door and opened it.

His eyes grew large and his breath stopped at the sight that was presented to him.  
Gregory stood before him.  
He was wearing his best suit and looked simply stunning. The bow tie was a little crooked, giving Mycroft a loving smile.  
The table was set as if for a three-course meal, with their best wine glasses, the silver candlestick with slim white candles and fine cloth napkins.

Gregory beamed at him and looked embarrassed at the same time.  
"I'm sorry, Mycroft, I took you away from the office just like that. ...but you and I have a date now.“  
Mycroft swallowed.  
"Gregory...“  
"Psssht," Gregory did, and put a finger on the lips.  
"No arguments.“  
He took Mycroft's hand and led him to the table.  
"Sit down. I've cooked dinner and I hope you enjoy it.“

There was a delicious chestnut soup.  
It was superb and Mycroft enjoyed it immensely, though his heart was fluttering with excitement. It was madness, they'd been together for quite a while now. And yet today he felt as if it was their first date. Like he was a teenager in love whose crush took him out for the first time.  
They ate and talked, and it felt warm and safe at the same time.

The main course was roast venison. It was served with dumplings and chanterelles. It was a classic dish that Greg had masterfully created. Mycroft was full of praise.  
Gregory was aglow with joy. It seemed to mean a great deal to him, that Mycroft was so thrilled.  
Gregory looked nervous.  
Mycroft felt his hands tremble a bit and his voice sounded uncertain...  
Jesus, and he hadn't the faintest idea what for.  
Anyone else, he was sure he'd have looked up at the end of his nose at what was going on. But not Gregory. Probably, he thought, because there were just too many feelings involved.  
Too many? No, that's not what he thought. Feelings, yes, but it was exactly right. There was nothing too much.

Finally the main course was finished and it was time for dessert.  
Gregory stood at the kitchen counter with his back to him and took a deep breath. Apparently, he had to gather his courage.  
Then he turned around and had a small round silver plate covered with a silver bonnet in his hands.  
He stepped up to the table and set it down in his own seat. Then he took off the silver bonnet.  
Beneath it was a bowl of mousse au chocolat, something Mycroft particularly loved.  
He went back to the sideboard, where there was a second such silver cover, which he placed in front of Mycroft.  
Mycroft had watched the whole process with some confusion.

"Well, dessert," Greg said. "You can either have mousse au chocolat, like me. ...or you can choose what's under your silver cap."

Mycroft swallowed again and felt excitement wash over him.  
He lifted the cap and felt Greg take it from his hands.  
There on his plate was a small box lined with black velvet and inside it was a ring.  
A ring!

He turned his gaze to Greg and to his amazement he realized that the one in front of him had gone down on his knees.  
"Mycroft," Greg said, "you are the love of my life. You are the man who drives me mad with his stubbornness and at the same time you touch me deeply when you show me your loving, soft side. You are the man who protects me, is there for me and shows me again and again how much he appreciates me. You are the man who makes me want to go to the opera, even though I hate it and who listens to rock music for me, and at least you try to hide how terrible you think it is. You're the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. You're the man who lets me call him Myke, for which you would have deported everyone else to Siberia already.  
And so I want to ask you, Myke, will you marry me?"

Mycroft gulped.  
He tried to speak.  
It didn't work on the first try.  
It took him a few breaths to find the words.  
And then, from the bottom of his heart, when he said..:  
"Oh, Gregory, yes, I do!"

* * *

When Mycroft Holmes an Gregory Lestrade became Mr and Mr Holmes-Lestrade a few months later, Gregory still hadn't slept with Mycroft.  
But it didn't matter. It had never been a problem for Greg anyway, and Mycroft had now realised that the closeness between them was not diminished by it.

Of course, their marriage was not without its complications, and John and Sherlock, who had become Mr. and Dr. Watson-Holmes, added to the confusion... but that's material for another story.

__________________________

This is the end of the story. At the moment there is no third part yet. Maybe I'd like to write it sometime. It would then be about their wedding and all sorts of entanglements. Would you, dear readers, be interested?   
Your DieLadi


End file.
